


Butterflies

by yodalorian



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Butterflies, Canon Compliant, F/M, World Between Worlds, Young Ben Solo, im very sad over ben solo again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23316445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yodalorian/pseuds/yodalorian
Summary: "Padmé studied the insects crawling up her arm. 'I think I’d like to be reincarnated as a butterfly.'"Butterflies come to Darth Vader and Ben Solo at strange moments.
Relationships: Padmé Amidala & Ben Solo, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 33





	Butterflies

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the new Roll Out episode, Charles Soule's Darth Vader comics, [this Twitter thread](https://twitter.com/e_claire18/status/1181400538073751553), and my extreme sadness over lost Skywalker boys again.

Aroma hung heavy in the air, drifting over the lake’s sparking surface. Honeyvine draped itself the stones, tendrils grasping for the water below. Insects crawled over the petals, searching for the sweetness within: bees and beetles and moths. But the butterflies stood out, glittering cerulean, like sapphires set among the leaves.

Padmé reached out a barely quivering finger, trying to keep as still as possible. A butterfly landed, its feathery wings brushing against her skin. Soon, more came, settling in her hair and on her arms, adorning her like she was the queen of the forest. 

She laughed softly when she caught Anakin staring at her again with those lovesick puppy eyes. “Come on,” she said, holding out a butterfly balanced on her knuckle. But when the Jedi approached, it swiftly fluttered away.

“They seem to like you more than me,” he said, a little crestfallen.

“No, no. They just trust me. I’ve come here every summer since I was born.” She watched a butterfly creep across her dress, tongue flicking out, tasting no nectar but seeming satisfied anyway. “They’ll learn to trust you too.”

Two butterflies danced in the air, their flight intertwining as the sunlight flashed across their wings. “Have you ever heard the Naboo myth of the butterfly lovers? It was my bedtime story every night I spent here. Two lovers, forbidden to be together by warring families. But when they died, they were reincarnated as butterflies. Reborn, the same way butterflies break out of their chrysalis. And they spent the rest of eternity flying free, together.” Padmé studied the insects crawling up her arm. “I think I’d like to be reincarnated as a butterfly.”

She wove her fingers through Anakin’s. A butterfly approached cautiously, alighting on his ring finger, weightlessly beautiful.

* * *

Mournful trumpets sounded as the procession moved through the streets of Theed. Crowds packed the sides of the road, but even the smallest child was solemn and silent. Padmé rested in her coffin, white honeyvine flowers interlaced through her hair, her dress flowing in waves of dark blue. Like she was drowning in Naboo’s lakes.

The japor snippet was woven through her fingers, a piece of the desert resting on her heart. For good luck, Anakin had told her when he gave it to her thirteen years ago. And to remember him. It was a small piece of wood, the sides flaring out like the wings of a butterfly.

Far above and behind, the butterflies followed too. Wings dulled by the gray cloudy sky, but still shining. Noticed by no one, but they, too, mourned.

* * *

The light was blinding, like lightning trapped before him. At last. Vader had done it. He had torn the veil between life and death. Padmé was somewhere within that light, waiting for him. All he had to do was step forward, and she would be his, forever.

Whispers echoed around him as he left behind everything he believed to be real. His armor melted away, leaving his flesh, exposed and raw. Violent swirls of black and red, the pain that stabbed him to his core. But the arms and legs that had been slashed off by Obi-Wan were white, plain...nothing.

Vader ventured forward across the torn terrain, black stone pointing upward like knives aimed at the sky. The sky reacted with dark clouds, purpling lightning flashing through the storm. But floating silently through the chaos that surrounded them were butterflies. Butterflies, glowing blue, not noticing the raging storm. 

One landed on his wounded skin. Its light wings...burned. Painfully, but there was something purifying too. Vader snarled, swatting it away.

It only seemed to encourage the others. They swarmed around him, their tongues flicking against his flesh and legs brushing against his body. He saw memories that had been long repressed and images he had never seen before.

_ You were right. Tell your sister you were right. _

The butterflies landed in him, suddenly heavy. They were trying to kill him. They were going to devour the darkness, and who was he without the darkness?

_ It is the name of your true self. You’ve only forgotten. _

Through it all, he felt Padmé. Her caress lingered on his arms. The taste of her neck lingered on his lips. He could feel her body, wrapped within his, gently breathing.

_ Hold me like you did by the lake on Naboo. _

Vader screamed, and finally the butterflies scattered. He looked around desperately. Where was Padmé? He had just felt her, so close, in his arms. But only the dark storm was around him, like before.

_ Please, Anakin, you’re going down a path I can’t follow. _

* * *

Panting, Ben tumbled into the clunky rusted transport. He managed to stumble to his feet, trying to wipe the grime off his cheek but only smearing it across his nose. Where was Daddy and Uncle Chewie? They didn’t seem to be here. A sob started to rise in his chest, shaking his shoulders. He tried to push it down. Big boys don’t cry. It came anyway.

He finally noticed what was actually in the cages in front of him. Butterflies? They glowed inside the dim transport, dust trickling down from their wings. They were singing.

Butterflies don’t sing, you dummy. They...well Ben didn’t know what sound a butterfly makes. But they were singing anyway, a song just for him. It sounded like the songs his mommy sang to him at bedtime. Maybe his mommy was there in the cages, and this was all a funny game and she would come out and hug him and tell him he won. She didn’t come. But a lady who sounded like her was singing in the cages.

Ben watched the butterflies’ wings beat against the bars of the cage. It made him sad. Butterflies shouldn’t be locked up. He liked them when they were flying in the sun. They were prettier that way. Wiping away his tears (and a good amount of snot), Ben pulled on the latch and the cage door swung open.

He giggled when they flew by his face, tickling his ears. The lady flew out with them. He couldn’t see her, but she brushed his face and wrapped her arms around him. Daddy didn’t believe Ben when he told him later, but he could feel her kiss his forehead. She was around him, lifting him into the air.

* * *

The last thing Ben Solo saw was Rey’s face, bloody and dirty, but radiantly happy. He saved her. It was all that mattered. Ben fell back, and dark Exegol faded away.

He woke up somewhere dark, where stars glittered all around him, even below. Something glowing floated by. A butterfly. Instinctually, he reached out, and it settled in his palm. A tiny blue flame, warming him.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he turned. A woman sat next to him, ethereal blue like the butterfly. She smiled, but her eyes carried a deep sadness.

“Am I dead?”

“Not quite.” Her voice seemed familiar, but Ben couldn’t place it. “You’re...in between.”

“Who are you?”

“I do my best to guide the lost souls who come here.” But with every passing moment, Ben was more sure they had met before. He searched his memory, and fragments began to return. Leia, cradling him, telling him fairy tales about the queen who fell in love. History holos of the great senator from Naboo. The woman who sang among the butterflies.

“Padmé?”

She gently stroked his cheek. “I reach out to all who are lost. But I must admit, I try a little harder for my family.” She reached out a hand, helping Ben to his feet. To his surprise, she was solid, not a ghost, but real and warm.

“Come on. You don’t belong here.” Padmé Amidala led her grandson out of the darkness and into the light, escorted by butterflies.


End file.
